No Secure Hand
by Kid Dynamite 090
Summary: A rather sad look at Toki after learning he was lied to and betrayed by a certain blonde. Somewhat based off 'September Sun' by Type O Negative.


The golden September skies slowly began to turn to a fair purple as the nocturnal cycle began to creep. Inside the metal dragon there was only quiet. A sullen evening was befalling the land and even their normal preferences of chaos and sounds no one, from the man with red dreads to the man with a large knife, made a sound. It was very eerie, if not unwelcoming. The air about the dragon was one of simple sleep. A deep sleep.  
Through the winding stone hallways there was one room that was different than the rest. Rather than furnished by dark and death, it was furnished with innocence and productivity. A small, one person bed with a workbench for model airplanes nearby. A small boy could spend an entire day in that room alone. Of course, Toki Wartooth was a wee past that of a small boy.  
He was a man. A man with rippling abdominal muscles and long hair the color of chestnuts. Hailing from Norway the young musician was no more a child, but a man. A man who had felt all the things adulthood had to offer. He felt the effects of alcohol, he felt the role of the cute little brother to his band mates, he felt the feeling of having women desire him; but most importantly he felt the feeling of broken promises and shattered lust.  
Alone in his own little realm, Toki lay on his side in his bed with his beloved teddy 'deddy' bear with his legs brought up in a fetal position.  
"Nos mores sluts, Toki," Toki said quietly to himself.  
With a sharp intake of breath the young man focused hard to feel the essence around him. There was none. No hand securely around his waist, no partner pulling him close. It was just him. Him alone in a chilly room.  
Gripping into deddy's soft coat he pulled the stuffed toy close to his heart. Toki closed his eyes and brought a bit of the toy close to his mouth to bite. He began to think. He tried to think about his music, but whenever he thought of a note his thoughts bounced to a sadder note. He was alone. He was left alone. He was left alone after being promised.  
The Norwegian actually believed he was being told the truth. Honesty, he did. He thought if he could just satisfy enough and be the perfect pet that he wouldn't be alone. Yet there he was. He was left for some groupie slut. A perfectly willing slave to his almighty blonde master.  
He saw the sluts and groupies enter the white chamber a few hours before. They were giggling and excited and couldn't get inside the room fast enough. The door behind them was slammed leaving Toki nothing more than a dog left out for the night. The only difference between the dog and Toki was that a scratching dog may earn entrance.  
"W-why can'ts they be left alone?" Toki asked quietly out loud, his voice cracking.  
The guitarist opened his eyes a bit and could feel a moist texture roll down his cheeks. He was crying. He didn't care. He was heartbroken.  
After all the nights of intimacy and passion, all the nights of promises and sneaking around. Nothing had changed. As if every word from the others lips were just false hopes. A part of Toki wondered if this was all just a game. If a fuck was a fuck, then what was he after the fuck? A toy used at will? It didn't seem like that in the moment. For the moments they were together it felt real. Maybe that was the act: making everyone feel special and loved.  
Tears were rolling down Toki's cheeks faster and he was being to silently sob. He dared not question or ponder what took place in the forbidden white chamber that night. It was painful to the point of preferring death.  
"W-whys?" whispered Toki.  
He continued to sob and imbedded his fingers into deddy bear so hard it hurt.  
As an incubus to a poor victim, Toki felt as if his soul was stolen. Kisses and touching of the most intimate nature set a flame by dirty lust. But what did Toki have? Was it lust? Or was it something else? Something Toki wasn't sure what it was or what name to call it. Something he had only heard about. Something he was told that men would try and find via dirty action.  
His eyes getting red and sore, Toki was breathing heavily and crying a bit more audibly. He didn't care if anyone heard. If he was brave enough he'd leap from his sheets and cry in the shoulder of the nearest human being.  
Like glass dusting over uncovered flesh, the memories of nights past began to creep into the guitar player's mind. He thought about the nights that he was held. He thought about the times he was told to relax and how good it would feel. He thought about how good it felt. He thought about how much greater the good felt because who he was with.  
Even in betrayal Toki wanted to just scream his name. He wanted to be rescued from his wet sorrows. But sadly, no prince in white armor arrived to quell his tears. Rather, he was still just alone. Alone with this thoughts and a dim glimmer of hope. Hope he still held not to be broken.  
As that of a little boy Toki sniffled and wiped his eyes on his wrists. It wasn't late, but Toki was so tired. Tired of thinking, tired of crying, and tired of being alone. Like an autumn leaf ending its journal, Toki rolled over with his teddy in arms and closed his eyes once more. He closed his eyes tight to fight the tears and silently asked himself to fall asleep. When people feel too much pain they pass out or go into a comatose state. At that was all Toki wanted to do. Sleep. Sleep and maybe never wake up. Did it matter? Taking a final big breath Toki tried to calm his mind and drift away into sleep; not caring if it was for a few hours or a few lifetimes.


End file.
